


Poison

by Control_Room, Random_ag



Series: Tortured Tales [21]
Category: Bendy and the Ink Machine
Genre: Food Poisoning, Horror, Implied Death, Implied Murder, Ink, Poisoning
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-23
Updated: 2020-11-23
Packaged: 2021-03-10 07:28:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 500
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27679430
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Control_Room/pseuds/Control_Room, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Random_ag/pseuds/Random_ag
Summary: Wally gets a perk.
Series: Tortured Tales [21]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2023520
Kudos: 3





	Poison

There were little perks (that were growing smaller) to being Wally Franks, he’d tell ya.

Perks like working late at night (whenever he wanted, was more like it), without a soul in sight to see as he swept around while whistling to himself (in an attempt to fight the oppressing silence around him) as if to emulate his natural carefree demeanor (that had been crumbling as of late), and checking (with a touch of anxiety) into a door to see if he had already cleaned it. It led to a soon to be emptied office, still brimming with a life that one day had simply been gone. Seeing it sent small but vicious shivers up his spine. He was told to clear it out, and take anything that he wanted from it.

The cake sitting on the desk, without a speck of dust on its chocolate cover thanks to the glass bowl shielding it from any and all outside forces, surprised him instead.

It laid composed and polite on top of a platter as if it had been waiting for him. 

Wally knew no one was going to take it now.

And, he knew that he was told that he could have it.

A perk.

He bit his lower lip in a last moment of indecisiveness. To hell with it, he told himself, and he carefully removed the bowl to grab the knife laying next to the treat. It was not that easy sinking it into the baked good (it must have not been that fresh, he thought, afterall the parkmaker and his wife left the company the day before), but it was a minor inconvenience at best as he bit into the slice.

Good.

Dear God, it was so good.

So delicious.

A little old, but just divine.

With every munch breaking into the soft sponge he was at a loss for words.

He licked his fingers and realized with dismay that he had finished it. He helped himself to a second serving, and when the delicious taste left his mouth again he cut a third, fourth, fifth slice.

It was so, so _good_.

Too good.

Too… too good.

So good it… it hurt.

It literally hurt.

Groaning, he slumped down in the leather chair once owned by Bertrum Piedmont, the janitor curling in on his stomach. Gosh, what the hell was wrong with him?

Frothy spittle bubbled at the corners of his mouth.

His vision was going dark, and he leaned over the trash can, trying to throw up the contents that so plagued him. 

Black polished shoes stepped into his vision.

“M-Mister Drew,” he gasped, reaching up for help. “I can’t breathe--”

“It’s okay, Wallace,” the businessman leaned down with a smile. “It will all be okay. It will be perfect.”

Joey pulled up Wally, who was unwillingly carried gracefully to a location he could not see. He let his eyes close and let himself mumble woes, knowing they would be behind him. 

It would be perfect.


End file.
